“Out of 10 films, 9.5 will fail”
Making a movie in Singapore sounds glamorous—until you look at the numbers.
Kelvin Tan, better known as Mayiduo, learned this the hard way. In 2023, the 34-year-old businessman and media company founder decided to pursue a childhood dream: making a feature film.
Two years, S$1 million, and countless headaches later, his comedy movie Follow Aunty La premiered in Jun 2025 and was nominated for Best Feature Film at the Golden Petal Award 金海燕奖.
It broke even. That alone makes it an outlier in Singapore.
“Out of 10 films, 9.5 will fail,” Kelvin told us matter-of-factly. “The moment your film doesn’t lose money, it’s considered a success.”
We spoke with the filmmaker about the brutal economics of Singapore’s film industry, why most movies lose money, and how he managed to break even on his first feature film without a single government grant.
From influencer to filmmaker
Kelvin’s path into film wasn’t conventional.
Before 2023, he was running multiple businesses—a T-shirt printing company, an interior design firm, and Mandarin media company Double Up Media, where he built an audience as an influencer through short-form comedy skits.
But his love for movies started long before his business ventures. From a young age, he was “very inspired” by Hong Kong filmmaker Stephen Chow and, closer to home, by Jack Neo.
When I was younger, watching their films, I would think, actually, this is something I can do.
Kelvin’s breakthrough into the film industry came through a friend at mm2 Entertainment who managed to schedule a meeting with founder Melvin Ang.
The pitch landed. Melvin liked Kelvin’s vision, and by end-2023, Double Up Media was co-producing Follow Aunty La with mm2.
The film went through at least eight script revisions
Kelvin drew the idea for Follow Aunty La from the life of Double Up co-founder Charlene Huang, an influencer who started comedy content at 35 and weathered vicious online attacks.
He not only directed the film but also appears in a supporting role as a bad-tempered director of photography who helps Charlene’s protagonist become a successful influencer.
The story originally centred on an auntie chasing celebrity status, but mm2’s team advised a pivot.
They told me, in this age and time, younger people don’t want to be mingren (名人)—they want to be influencers.
The plot was reworked into an older woman pursuing Internet fame, resulting in a final runtime of two hours and eight minutes.
Kelvin said the film also pushed creative boundaries for Singapore cinema. Follow Aunty La is reportedly the first local feature with a cast composed entirely of influencers, and it frequently breaks the fourth wall—a storytelling choice he claims is rarely seen in traditional productions.
His background in social media made the film relatable, but Kelvin acknowledged that without oversight, it could have felt more like a stretched-out TikTok.
“If I didn’t have supervision, it might just feel like a very long TikTok video,” he said. “But with mm2’s experience and what we Double Up have, we put together something different from our predecessors.”
In the end, the film endured at least eight script revisions in mm2’s “writer’s room”—a process where producers, executives, and the director dissect every scene, every dialogue line, every character motivation.
Cold calls, clients, and conviction
Singapore’s film ecosystem is heavily tied to government funding. Grants can go up to S$300K under IMDA’s Long-Form Content Grant—but that’s still less than a third of a typical film budget.
Most local films cost around S$1 million to produce, though ultra-tight productions can squeeze by at S$400,000.
Kelvin’s initial plan was to shoot three short films and submit them to festivals to qualify for the scheme, hoping to ease some of the financial burden. Unfortunately, none of the films received nominations.
He could have shelved the project. But Kelvin didn’t because he truly believed in his work—so he took a different route: he bypassed the system entirely. Instead of chasing grants, he chased sponsors, making multiple cold calls to his network.
Out of the S$1M budget, S$700,000 came from brand sponsorships, and S$300K came from private investors.
These weren’t random sponsors. They were existing clients from his content business—brands already familiar with his ability to drive engagement. From independent watch dealer Watch Exchange to robot vacuum brand Dreame, they appear subtly throughout Follow Aunty La, integrated into props, home settings, and outdoor locations.
His pitch was simple: “This is brand elevation, not ROI”. Kelvin explained that movie sponsorships don’t generate instant returns, but position your brand alongside a cultural moment. Moreover, Kelvin offered a safety net no traditional director could match—if the film flopped, he’d create content to make up the value.
Most of these sponsors are online businesses. They’ve seen results from our campaigns. I told them, worst comes to worst, I can still produce content.
The hidden costs that can kill productions
Every single cent matters in movie-making.
Kelvin shared that a film crew covering vehicles, manpower, equipment, food, transport, and locations can burn through about S$30,000 a day.
After nearly a year of planning, filming took just 21 days in Nov 2024. That’s S$630,000 gone before post-production even begins. Factor in cast salaries, editing, colour grading, sound design, VFX, and mastering, and the budget quickly climbs to S$1 million.
If there’s one thing that terrifies Singapore filmmakers, it’s overtime.
Production days typically run 10–12 hours, but delays from bad weather to missed lines can easily push shoots beyond schedule. That’s when costs spike, with overtime pay kicking in at 1.5x rates.
“Ten days of overrun and your budget bursts,” Kelvin said. Thankfully, his production only overran for two days, yet it’s still a significant amount.
Then there’s the period of uncertainty that directors will have to deal with.
From concept to cinema release, Follow Aunty La took over two years—a standard timeline in Singapore’s film industry. But that also means capital is tied up the entire time, with no guaranteed returns.
Making a movie is a very risky business model. It’s a very long process, and your returns are always a big question mark.
For a businessman used to monthly campaign turnovers, the wait was brutal.
“Most of my time was spent convincing people,” he admitted. Without formal film training, Kelvin spent months proving he wasn’t just “some guy who got lucky” to his experienced production team, investors and sponsors.
You can make a great film and still never get it screened
Even after making a film, monetisation isn’t straightforward. Kelvin pointed out a harsh reality: you can make a great film and still never get it screened.
Distribution is key. You must have a distributor before you start. Otherwise, you’re just gambling.
This is where mm2, his co-producing partner, became a key collaborator to Kelvin’s movie. Other than providing film production expertise, the company had strong relationships with cinema chains Golden Village, Shaw Theatres, Cathay Cineplexes and Eaglewings Cinematics.
Without those connections, Follow Aunty La would have been another indie film with no screens.
To recover a S$1 million budget, a film typically needs to generate around S$3 million at the box office. Cinemas and distributors take their cut, leaving producers with roughly a third of ticket sales, explained Kelvin.
That’s why box office alone isn’t enough.
Filmmakers today also rely on secondary revenue streams, from streaming platforms to airline entertainment systems. But these come with their own barriers.
Kelvin managed to secure deals with platforms like KrisWorld and Apple TV, but Netflix turned him down. “Market too small,” they said.
It’s a harsh reality: despite a decent box office showing, Singapore films often struggle to land major streaming deals, as platforms prioritise content from larger markets like the US, UK, and Korea.
In the end, Follow Aunty La brought in about S$500,000 in Singapore and S$250,000 in Malaysia, alongside smaller platform deals—just enough to break even.
Part of the challenge also comes down to local constraints.
As a director, Kelvin had to balance storytelling with regulatory requirements, including classification by IMDA. Ratings play a critical role—moving from PG13 to NC16 can significantly shrink your potential audience in a small market like Singapore.
That influenced how he positioned the film.
Kelvin aimed to appeal to both younger viewers, who already follow him online, and older audiences, maximising reach in an already limited market. As a result, he targeted a PG13 rating to strike the right balance between accessibility and audience size.
“Film is still a business”
Reflecting on the experience, Kelvin admits that creating short-form content is a faster way to make money than putting out a feature film.
The filmmaking process is gruelling, financial returns are uncertain, and the local industry is contracting—he predicts a decline unless Singapore filmmakers pivot.
He’s also candid about the shifting landscape: public theatres are no longer the default audience, personal streaming at home is taking over, and generative AI is changing how stories are made.
Yet, he doesn’t want to discourage young filmmakers from entering the scene.
“Film is still a business,” he insists. “A lot of great directors fail because they don’t understand the economics.” While passion is crucial, understanding the finances of a film is equally important for a film to succeed.
With the success of his film, Kelvin hopes to inspire more Singaporean filmmakers to carve a space locally and internationally.
Looking ahead, he’s looking to continue making short-form content and also films that make people laugh. He’s currently acting in other productions—”3 Good Guys” and “Kongtao”—films where content creators increasingly populate Singapore film casts.
It’s a significant shift and rejuvenation to Singapore films as influencers bring loyal audiences, reducing marketing costs that traditionally sink local films.
Kelvin is also exploring regional co-productions, starting with Taiwan first, where budgets run slightly larger at around S$2 million, and the market is larger. This could potentially open doors to audiences and collaborations with China, where budgets are much more lenient and can extend to as large as US$25 million budgets.
The economics may be brutal, but as Kelvin proved, they’re not impossible—if you know which rules to bend.
- Read other articles we’ve written on Singaporean businesses here.
Featured Image Credit: Mayiduo
